Drabble Babble
by AbsentAngel
Summary: A place for my Fairy Tail one shots/drabbles of less than 1k words (expect mostly NaLu). Always complete. Chapter #12: This isn't how she imagined. Spoilers for Ch. 513
1. Strawberry Street

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**Drabble Babble**

**Chapter #1: Strawberry Street**

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Those that resided on Strawberry Street did so with an infinite amount of patience for one particular resident. Or, rather, the company that said resident kept. Lucy Heartfilia was a nice girl, she was always good about greeting her fellow neighbors with a smile and a polite inquiry on how they were. Certainly they were happy to have her – even if it did take them by surprise the first few times they caught sight of a pink haired man and his flying blue cat breaking into her apartment through her second story window. But this _was_ Magnolia – home to Fairy Tail – and the city's residents had seen much stranger (and much more destructive) things.

For the first six months or so, it was not uncommon to hear the blonde shouting at the top of her lungs "get out". Moments later and the neighbors often found the same pink haired mage crawling _out_ of the same window he had broken in through. After a while though the early morning screams became less frequent. Sightings of a dragon slayer and his flying cat breaking into the little apartment remained a common occurrence (most of the neighbors now greeted him the same way they did the busty blonde – with familiarity). They rarely saw him sneaking out anymore.

And so Strawberry Street became peaceful once more.

Until two weeks ago.

Unlike before, the noises emitting from the little apartment no longer seemed to be contained to a particular time slot. Morning, afternoon, evening, night – there were apparently no limitations. It was quite clear that their neighbor and the dragon slayer had advanced to the next stage in their relationship (the volume in which she regularly screamed his name left little doubt to any who had any sort of hearing). The morning after the first incident they had all given each other little grins and gossiped happily about the things they overheard after the majority of the lights had turned out the night before. When the couple emerged hand in hand, the people of Strawberry Street welcomed them with knowing little smiles and congratulatory greetings that made the celestial mage blush and the dragon slayer beam.

They were happy for her, thrilled even, but patience is a fickle thing. As much as they adored their neighbor, enough was enough.

When they approached her about it (kindly, because it wasn't their intention to mortify the poor girl) she had blushed to the roots of her hair and apologized profusely with the promise of working to remedy the situation.

That evening, just before Ms. Lily Harris closed up her flower shop, the elderly woman heard the annoyed screeching from the second story apartment across the street. Not a moment later, the pink haired dragon slayer (that she had grown so accustomed to seeing) emerged from the window with one Lucy Heartfilia slung over his broad shoulder. Gaping curiously, Ms. Harris watched as the blonde struggled and brought her small fists down onto his back with little success. Expletive threats were made as he jumped down into the street, but the exuberant man seemed unconcerned by any of it. When his dark gaze caught onto the little flower shop owner's he gave her a bright grin and an exaggerated wave.

"Don't worry Ms. Harris! I'm taking Lucy to my place since she's so lou- ow!" He looked over his shoulder, pouting. "What was that for?!"

The celestial mage hid her face in her hands, but the older woman could still make out the cherry red complexion peeking between her fingers. "Just _go_," she moaned miserably.

He smirked. "Geeze Luce, make up your mind!"

"Natsu," she whined, obviously not having the patience for his teasing.

"Ok, ok!" He gave Ms. Harris another dazzling smile and a mock salute. "Nice talking to you! Have a nice night!"

She gave him a little wave, a sly smile pulling at her lips. "You as well."

He gave her a boyish laugh before running off with his partner (in more than one sense of the word) laying limply over his shoulder.

From that day, things became a bit quieter on Strawberry Street, though the sightings of a certain dragon slayer carrying the celestial mage from her second story window became a regular occurrence. Parents told their children that he was a dragon rescuing his princess from the tower and would cheer him on whenever they saw him.

Natsu always responded with a grin, and his princess with a blush.

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**AN:** Decided to make a designated place for all my less than 1k drabbles. :)

Inspired by NaLu Love Fest and one of ishould-stab-u's reviews!


	2. In My Hands

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**Drabble Babble**

**Chapter #2: In My Hands**

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He can't get over how tiny she is.

It's terrifying, really, how his hands dwarf her little form. With the yellow baby blanket swaddling her she looks even smaller - more fragile. He can see the tiniest blue veins peeking through her fragile skin. Skin that is now pleasantly pink instead of the terrifying blotchy red it was hours before (it had taken two nurses to assure him that it was perfectly normal and that their baby was perfect). She is a healthy seven pounds six ounces, but when he holds her she feels lighter.

She feels too light, too fragile, too _precious_ to trust in his battle worn hands. The first time he held her, moments after her birth when her limbs were wailing and her tiny lungs were busy voicing her displeasure, he was terrified that he'd hold her too tight or (worse) he wouldn't hold her tight enough and she'd tumble from his grasp. Lucy, with sweat still soaking her bangs and tears still trailing down her cheeks, had smiled up at him reassuringly as the nurses directed him in how to support their child's head. It was a smile full of so much love and affection that he felt tears cling stubbornly to the corners of his eyes because holy shit, he was a _father_.

With this realization comes both excitement and a bone chilling fear. He doesn't know how to raise a child, doesn't know how to be the father that his daughter needs. All he knows is that he already loves her more than anything. He wants to make all the right decisions, wants to be the role model she deserves. He wishes he had Igneel to guide him, to walk him through how to be a parent, but he doesn't. He can only do his best.

His thumb gently brushes against his daughter's delicate cheek. "I'll make you proud," he promises under his breath. He's not sure if he's talking to his child or the memory of his father – maybe both – but the moment the words pass his lips he knows that he will do everything he can to make it true.

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**AN**: Have a super short drabble!


	3. The Beast Inside

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_I wanna hide the truth_

_I wanna shelter you_

_But with the beast inside_

_There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed_

_We still are made of greed_

_This is my kingdom come_

_This is my kingdom come_

_-Imagine Dragons, "Demons"_

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**Drabble Babble**

**Chapter #3: The Beast Inside**

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With her, he is greedy.

This is not a new development, but it is one that has recently escalated beyond his control. He wants her all to himself. When her attention strays from him he feels jealousy curl in his chest and the burning urge to do something ridiculous just so he can have her eyes all to himself. He wants to be the one she seeks out, wants to be the one she confides in. He wants to be the only one to hold her, to touch her. He wants her in every way possible.

The dragon in him – the beast in him – demands that he steal her away and hoard her to himself, because she is a treasure. There are diamonds in her eyes that reflect like stars and gold in her hair when it's touched by the sunlight, but it is more than that. She is the moon in his night sky, and as long as he has her then he has enough light to see by. When she is gone, when she isn't by his side, he feels like he is fumbling in the dark.

He wants her with an intensity that frightens him. It is not enough to just be her friend anymore. The beast beneath his breast howls and clamors, it demands that he entangle their souls so tightly that she can never hope to escape. He wants to possess her every thought, make her feel lost without his touch. He wants to have every little thing that is Lucy Heartfilia until he is the burning sun in her sky and she cannot live without him.

And it's _wrong_.

He knows this. Feels it in his heart even as the beast beneath roars and claws at his rib cage. She is not his – she is not _anyone's_ – and she never will be. Lucy belongs to Lucy. She is her own woman, her own person, and no one will ever take that away from her. Not any of her future boyfriends, not the husband she is bound to eventually choose, not even him.

He can't let her find out. He's terrified that if he slips and she sees the beast pacing behind his sharpened gaze she will never be able to trust him again. He doesn't even know if she should. Right now, as jealous heat boils under his flesh because she is talking (_flirting_ the beast snarls) with the blue eyed bookstore clerk, he thinks that she should be terrified of him. He turns away, forcing himself to look elsewhere before the sight of another man smiling down at her drives him insane. He can't help how he feels, but he can choose how he acts. Acting like a possessive asshole is not an option, not with Lucy. She means too much, is too important.

He feels the lightest of touches on his forearm and withholds a shudder. Lucy is looking up at him, her brow drawn in concern. "Are you alright?"

He can't answer her question, not without lying, so he takes her hand in his and holds it firmly. Her touch calms the beast, makes him purr in satisfaction. It curls around his heart and whispers in his ear, _'If you don't let go then she can't leave.'_ Natsu gives her the same bright grin he's been hiding behind for months now. "Let's go, I'm starving! You were taking forever!"

She looks at him, and for a moment he's afraid that she can see right through him. Then she nods, a small smile mirroring his own. "Yeah, ok." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, but doesn't let it go. It is such a simple thing, something he shouldn't let effect him, but it ignites the tiniest spark of hope all the if she could need him as much as he needs her then maybe the beast would calm and the howling would stop.

Maybe then he'd be convinced that she wouldn't end up leaving him like everyone else.

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**AN: **Inspired by a prompt I received on tumblr from margaret-longbottom who requested a piece based off of the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons.


	4. Changes

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_Warning: Spoilers up to Ch. 417_

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**Drabble Babble**

**Chapter#4: Changes**

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She isn't the same – not really.

He isn't either, but somehow... he just thought that he would come back and everything would be just as he left it. Seeing her, with her hair styled so differently and so much longer, reminds him that it really has been a year.

It's more than that though – more than just physical changes. There is an accusation hiding in her eyes, a bitterness that she tries to paint over with a smile.

He stands in front of her bedroom wall, lost in a dizzying array of string and paper. "What is this?"

He swears he can see any lingering light fade from her eyes as she stares at the map. "I've ... been trying to find everyone."

The hollowness in her voice makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, but it is nothing compared to the chill he feels when he takes a closer look at the jumbled mass of articles and photos. All across the map, in every corner of Fiore, are _names_. Names of his friends, of his guild members, but he doesn't understand what it means. Not until her voice, soft and full of regret, stabs at his heart.

"The guild disbanded the day after you left."

Suddenly he understands what is so different about her, and he feels his chest tighten painfully in response.

His magic has never been so strong, but in the face of Lucy's forced smiles, he feels his knees go weak. Natsu knows that look. He recognizes the kind of pain that only loneliness can bring. He lived through it every day before he found Fairy Tail. So did Lucy – he could recognize it in her eyes the day they met. He had no doubt that her childhood was as lonely as his, even if she was surrounded by marble and smiling servants.

The day he left is the day he sentenced her to a year alone, but he wouldn't change what he did. He wouldn't have stayed – he couldn't – and he hates himself even more for it.

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**AN**: Just a short drabble that I wrote after reading Ch. 417 that's just been sitting collecting dust. I'm really just feeling 'meh' about it, but I figured posting was better than shoving it in the virtual closet.


	5. Ephemeral

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_Prompt #1: Scars/Bruises_

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**Ephemeral**

**By AbsentAngel**

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She wears the bruises around her neck like jewelry – a necklace that she can't remove, made of blemished stones of varying shades of purple and ringed with sickly green. They peek through the layers of concealer she cakes over them, bleeding through like stubborn stains, despite her best efforts. It doesn't take much to connect the dots and find the image of hands.

Natsu is torn between not being able to look at them and not being able look away.

When his eyes close he sees the hand of their enemy enclose around her throat, hears her wheezing gasps as she claws at his skin, and feels her terror rimmed eyes tearing into his soul. At night it replays over and over – a broken film reel stuck on repeat. In his dreams he can't move, can't scream. He is the unwilling audience strapped down and gagged with his eyes taped open, just waiting (begging) for the morning sun to rise and loosen his bindings. In reality, he just wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough.

Wasn't smart enough.

He is haunted by the knowledge that a few moments later would have meant a few moments _too late_. It is a painful reminder – one that forces him to realize that, even with her new found strength, she is still far too fragile. Her magic does not save her from bruises, does not protect her from bleeding. The soft skin that he has always admired is no more than softened paper, and he knows it is not enough to keep her safe. Just one wrong move – one solid blow to her stomach, one piercing stab to her heart, one slice to any of the dozen major arteries giving her life – and she is _gone_.

There are too many ways to lose her and not nearly enough to keep her safe.

He thinks of how the blood of her future self – _her blood, _only not – spilled hotly over his hands. He remembers with frightening clarity the way it stuck to his skin, embedded itself beneath his fingernails, in a way that only time could wash away. Sometimes, if he thinks about it for too long, he can still catch its bitter scent and it chokes him. Even in the face of her warm smiles he still can't shake off the shadowed memory of how the life was stolen from her eyes.

In the face of those bruises he begins to question whether they ever really changed the future, or if they've only managed to change the circumstances. He hopes for the first, but he is terrified of the possibility of the second.

When Igneel died, a blackened seed was planted in the lonely crevices of his heart. It grows with every bruise, every cut, every close call – festers like a rotten wound that never had the chance to heal. He feels it planting its bitter, ashen roots around him; hears it hiss omens so dark that it burns his ears. Every injury that Lucy sustains is another barbed vine wrapping around his heart, smothering his pulse and making him weak.

It is only a matter of time before they constrict – and he suffocates under the pressure.

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_Ephemeral: adjective_

_ a very short time; short-lived; transitory_

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**AN:** Something small to kick off Angst Week. :)


	6. Memoriam

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_Prompt #1: Monster/Demon_

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**Memoriam**

**By AbsentAngel**

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Lucy doesn't know how to feel when she finds out her father has died. She doesn't cry – not at first – and when the tears do come it is more out of guilt and self loathing than grief.

She is parentless now, but things don't feel different from before. When her mother died her whole world had shifted. She felt the loss everyday as a child and cried enough to have filled bath tubs. Even now, more than a decade later, there is a keen ache beneath her breast that serves as a memorial to her mother's memory.

With her father's passing there is no bone deep ache, no tears.

There is a mixture of emotions, some typical and others not so much. She regrets that she didn't have more time with him; is sad that she won't be able to see him again. There is a little hollow ache in her chest when she looks at the birthday gifts still wrapped neatly in their glimmering, festive paper. Her father's death feels like a lost opportunity – a train that could have went somewhere special but she just missed the boarding time.

When she thinks of him her memories are painful instead of fond. She remembers him as cold hard edges, ruined rice balls, and hurtful words. Growing up he was the father that existed but wasn't there – an imposing figure of discipline and authority but no familial warmth. She tries to remember the handful of happy moments she has shared with him, tries to reason with herself, but the happy times are too few and the hurt he has caused too deep. She needs more – more love, more smiles, more _Father_ – to balance the scales.

She knows she won't get any of it.

For them, for their relationship, time has run out. She is left with only with scars of childhood and the dusting of happy times, and it just isn't fair. None of it is fair. She wants to love her father, wants to miss him and hold his memory close to her heart. She wants to think of him and feel the same fond ache that she feels when she writes letters to her mother, but she doesn't. She _can't_.

So she cries. Not because she is sad or lost. Not because she will miss him or regret the lost opportunity of what could have been. She cries because, as much as she doesn't want to, she remembers more of the monster than the man.

And nothing she does can ever change that.

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**AN:** I wasn't even going to do this prompt but then this idea came to me at 1am last night and my bladder (aka baby) woke my up a 6am this morning so what the hell, why not? Apologies for any resulting sloppiness.


	7. For Kicks

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_Fluff Week Day #6: Show Me_

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**Drabble Babble # 7**

**For Kicks**

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The first time she felt the stirrings of life in her lower belly she debated on whether it had happened at all. The touch was so light, no more than a tap really, that she almost believed she imagined it. When it happened a few moments later, still just as soft but no less _there_, she knew she wasn't going crazy.

She smiled so wide that her cheeks ached, her hand passing over the small swell of her stomach lovingly. Natsu, noticing her sudden silence, paused in taking another bite of his sandwich. "Luce?"

"I felt a kick," she explained, excitement coloring her voice.

Immediately Natsu shoved his lunch aside on the coffee table and closed the distance between them, his eyes bright. "Really?! I want to feel!"

She took his callused hand in hers, guiding it to the left side of her abdomen. "It was right here..." Seconds passed with no movement, and with each empty moment the crease in Natsu's brow deepened. Finally, she felt another kick and she beamed up at him. "There! Did you feel it?"

He frowned, disappointment evident from his face. "I didn't feel anything..."

The admission made her smile falter, before she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's really light. As the baby gets stronger you'll be able to feel it."

"That's so not fair," he whined, rubbing circles on her stomach before leaning forward and talking directly to the little being behind the bump. "You gotta get strong real soon, ok? Don't let Mommy hog all the fun."

She rolled her eyes but refrained from reminding him that the 'fun' had come at the expense of feeling nauseous twenty four seven for the first four months. Not to mention the breast tenderness and the frequent bathroom trips. "Well, I think _Mommy_ earned a little fun."

He gave a quick kiss to her jaw, smiling. "I guess you're right. I can be patient." She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What? I can!"

Lucy hummed, unconvinced. "We'll see."

She had been mostly teasing, but she could honestly say she hadn't predicted the amount of patience her husband would actually need.

Their baby got stronger alright. Tiny taps quickly grew into sharp jabs and borderline painful kicks in the coming weeks. They became powerful enough for her to even _see_ the movement under the taut skin of her belly. Yet every time the baby became active and she guided Natsu's hand to her stomach, the movement would stop just in time for him to miss it.

Every. Time.

Natsu, thin on patience to begin with, began to place his hand over her baby bump at every opportunity. When they slept, when they ate, when they cuddled on the sofa - anytime she was in reach he was there. And every time he had to move or he grew discouraged and gave up, his hand sliding off her with disappointment, the baby would choose at that moment to deliver a swift kick.

Today was, apparently, no exception.

He held his head in his hands, groaning as he eyed her swollen stomach miserably. "Our baby hates me."

She rolled her eyes, though her voice remained empathetic. "The baby does not hate you. You must just have a calming effect on him."

He flopped onto their bed, pouting up at the ceiling. "It's so unfair," he whined, looking at her longingly. "You get to feel _everything_.

She kissed his cheek, climbing between the sheets with as much grace as her stomach would let her. "I think I'll remind you about that when I'm in labor."

He grumbled under his breath, but didn't argue as he draped his arm over her waist and placed his hand over her stomach.

She gave the appendage a loving squeeze, sighing into her pillow. It had been a long day, and the process of building a whole other being was more draining than she could have ever expected. "Turn the light off when you go to bed, ok?" She hummed, shifting one of the pillows so that it rested between her knees. She knew that it was still too early for Natsu to go to sleep, but it certainly wasn't going to keep her from getting some much needed shut eye.

He nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear, murmuring into her skin. "I'm _in_ bed."

She gave him a half hearted jab to the ribs with her elbow. "You know what I mean."

He chuckled, kissing her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. I'll turn it off. Get some sleep."

He really didn't need to tell her twice. Lately she had been having trouble sleeping - she was still struggling with the change from sleeping on her stomach to her side - but tonight her mind had mercy on her. She fell into a comfortable sleep within mere moments and would have stayed blissfully unaware of it weren't for the hands shaking her awake half an hour later.

She started, her brain struggling to come up from its sleep induced fog. "Wha-" She rubbed her blurred eyes with the back of her hand, her voice muddled. "What is it?"

Natsu's excited grin filled her vision, the energy buzzing under his skin a sharp contrast to her own lethargic movements. "Luce! Luce! I felt it!"

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about, but when she registered that his hand was still on her stomach she moaned, burying her face back into her pillow. "That's great," she murmured, mind still foggy and begging for some more rest. "Why don't we talk about it in the morning, ok? In like, eight hours."

He laughed, giving a kiss to her temple. "Sorry," he whispered, "I just got really excited! Go back to sleep."

"Ok," she mumbled, eyes already slipping shut while she waited impatiently for sleep to come back and claim her. "Love you."

He held her close, his thumb stroking over the taut skin of her stomach and his smile ghosting over her shoulder. "Love you both."

The baby kicked against his hand and, even in her exhaustion, Lucy found her lips curving into a smile.

An: Figured I should make up for my angst week submission "Ashes to Ashes".


	8. Unconditional

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_Unconditional_

_by AbsentAngel_

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"They're all waiting out there," Natsu murmurs, his grin warm against her temple. The words are sleepy, but they still manage to have an edge of leftover adrenaline combined with the softness of admiration. "I'm surprised they haven't broken down the doors yet."

Lucy nods, exhausted but happier than she has ever been in her entire life. The hospital gown she wears is thin and slightly itchy, and the only thing keeping her toes from freezing are the socks she was lucky enough to be wearing when she was checked in and the steady warmth from her husband beside her.

"I know," she says softly, no more than a whisper. The small weight in her arms stirs, a tiny fist escaping from the cotton blanket he is swaddled in. Every movement he makes is jerky and unpracticed, motivated more out of instinct than will, but she still finds her heart melting when that tiny little hand rests against her chest.

His eyes are wide and unblinking as he stares up at her with the dark blue-gray eyes that is so typical in newborns. She wonders if they will darken until they resemble her own chocolate colored gaze or if they will sharpen until they match his father's. He already looks so much like Natsu that it makes her heart swell, but she admits (perhaps selfishly) that their child will at least inherit her eye color if nothing else.

Throughout her pregnancy people, strangers even, lamented on how nothing would prepare her for the sheer amount of love she would feel once her baby was placed in her arms. She would nod and agree with a smile. She didn't disagree, but she didn't fully understand either.

She does now.

She doesn't even know the little boy in her arms - only that his name is Igneel, that she and Natsu are his parents, and that he is already so loved. She loves him without knowing him, without knowing who he will become, and the realization brings a whole new understanding of what unconditional love really is.

She holds him closer and places a kiss on his downy head, lingering to inhale the scent of his newborn skin. "Just a little bit longer," she murmurs, her glassy eyes sliding over to the man hovering beside her. His gaze is on the child nestled against her chest - the warmth in his smile melting whatever is left of her heart. She can tell that he is as much in love with the tiny being in her arms as she is. "I want to savor this for just a little longer."

He reaches out a hand, the back of his callused knuckle gently grazing their child's flawless cheek. "Yeah," he breathes, eyes lifting to meet hers. "Me too."

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**AN:** Have a baby drabble! Because I was feeling inspired! :D


	9. Regrets

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_Spoilers for Chapter 465_

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**Regrets**

**By AbsentAngel**

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He feels empty.

It is a strange thing to feel when the fate of all the ones he loves has been strapped firmly to his shoulders. He has failed them - he knows this - but instead of guilt weighing down his steps he feels almost weightless. He thinks that maybe this is what it feels like to be a ghost.

In just a handful of minutes, Zeref (he refuses to call him 'brother') has stripped him of his identity. Everything he believed himself to be was wrong. He isn't human; he wasn't even born in this era.

In the heat of battle it was easy to be self sacrificing - it was easy to pin every word out of Zeref's mouth as a lie. Now though... In the solemn quiet of the guild hall, it is harder. As he looks at the faces of those he grew up with and those he has only more recently come to love, the empty feeling in his chest starts to churn and sour into something that tastes like regret.

He does not want to die.

He wants to grow old surrounded by the family he has made for himself in this little corner of the world. He wants to go on more adventures and become the strongest he can be. He wants to complete his first solo S-Class mission and rub it in Gray's face. Maybe even get strong enough that Erza will be afraid of _his_ temper for once.

His eyes land on Lucy and his heart gives a painful throb. After, when this was all done and everyone was safe, he had planned on kissing her. Maybe not right after, or even that week, but someday. When the time was right. He wants to be with her everyday, see her smile every morning. He wants to _marry_ her.

For a burning moment he hates Igneel. He wishes he had ended it - ended him - from the beginning.

It would have been easier to die when there wasn't so much to live for.

**AN**: I'm still alive, see?


	10. The Sound of Silence

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**The Sound of Silence**

**by AbsentAngel**

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His home isn't silent, but it may as well be.

He can hear the _drip, drip, drip _coming from the bathroom faucet, and the low whistle of wind sneaking past the broken bedroom window. Outside there is the sound of groaning branches as the trees fight against the storm, and Natsu knows it's only a matter of time before the sound of his leaky faucet is drowned out by the hammering of rain on the roof.

Sound is everywhere, a chaotic symphony of notes, but it is just noise. The silence is louder.

There is no sound of Lucy humming under her breath as she fixes dinner. No hint of Happy's purrs from the ratty old wingback chair in the corner of the living room. Sometimes he thinks he hears children laughing in the hallways but it is only an echo of memories and wishful thinking.

The sounds, the _music_, that he lived by is gone. All he is left with is the hollow drumming of a lonely life.

Everyone he loves has already left.

The guild is full and rowdy as always, but the names and faces of its members are all different. Sometimes he catches glimpses of his friends in the sea of newcomers – a flash of red hair, the scent of frost on old pine – but it is like looking through sandstorm. The resemblance are hazy, and his eyes burn when he looks too long.

His eyes travel to the framed picture on mantle. Its glass is covered with a thick layer of dust, making the photo beneath indistinguishable, but he doesn't bother wiping it clean. He knows what lies beneath the years of grime, just like he knows that gazing at the old faded photo will only tear open old wounds.

He doesn't want to see Lucy's sweet smile and be reminded that it, and her, are gone from this world. He doesn't want to see their infant daughter in her arms or their son (only a toddler at the time) perched on his shoulders, and wonder if they are now grandparents. But, mostly, he doesn't want to see himself. He can't look at the grin he knows is stretched from ear to ear, and remember how damn _happy_ he was.

Back then he had thought he was the luckiest man in the world. Then he started to notice the way Lucy's eyes were beginning to wrinkle in the corners, and how she spent more time in the mirror plucking gray hairs. It wasn't just her either. Everyone was aging – collecting sun spots and losing hairlines.

Everyone but _him_.

Rain taps on the roof, softly at first, but soon becomes more violent. Between the water hammering against old wooden shingles there is a rumbling growl of thunder and the wind whistling passed the cracked window is beginning to sound more like a scream. Alone, standing in the ruins of a life long since passed, Natsu mourns the silence.

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**AN:** For FT Angstweek Prompt #1: Silence in which I am a day late posting because damn it I forgot, ok?


	11. The Art of Drowning

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**The Art of Drowning**

**By Absentangel**

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There is a lot that Gray Fullbuster doesn't feel these days. Loss does that. It numbs him from the inside out, puts every emotion on ice until it he is ready – and _only_ when he is ready – to thaw it out and let it soak into his skin, his bones. It is how he copes and, despite Erza's insistence that he shouldn't hold it in, years of experience has taught him that he can't function any other way. Still, even through the thick layer of ice he has surrounded himself with, he still feels surprise when, upon opening the men's restroom door, he sees Lucy leaning over the sink with her hands planted on the counter and her eyes staring straight into her mirror's reflection.

He checks the front of the door again to be sure (just in case the women's bathroom, for whatever reason, happened to look _exactly_ like the men's – urinal and all). When it is confirmed that he is, in fact, in the correct room he closes the door softly behind him. There is a weariness in the way his friend hovers over the porcelain. In the mirrors reflection he can see the purple bags hiding beneath her makeup, and feels a wave of remorse wash over him before he quickly freezes it over. He is not ready to swim, he isn't even sure if he remembers how, and he can't afford to drown.

He isn't sure what draws his attention to her hands – maybe it is the way her fingers are as pale as the porcelain – but he finds himself noting his observation before he can think better of it. "You aren't wearing your ring."

She visibly jumps, and Gray realizes that she hadn't even realized he was there. When she sees it is him, she seems to relax, looking down at her left ring finger with an expression he can't quite decipher. "No, no I'm not."

It's odd to see her hand without the glint of gold. The thin, pale band of skin – the only evidence of the ring she used to wear daily – makes her slender fingers look even more empty. More fragile. He doesn't understand how she could take it off. The past week has turned his strong willed friend into a wisp of a woman, and he thinks that she needs everything she can to keep from floating away.

Lucy must see some of the doubt in his eyes, because she begins to rub at the skin in a motion that is similar to the way she used to spin the band around her finger. "It hurts," she says, so softly he almost misses it. Her eyes give a few quick blinks, and she clears her throat as if it wasn't emotion that shut it in the first place. "It burns."

Slowly, Gray nods. He doesn't understand, not really, but he doesn't need to. "You know this is the men's bathroom, right?"

She smile she gives him has no warmth behind it, only a tiredness that he is all too familiar with. "They would have followed me into the women's."

He doesn't have to ask who "they" are. Everyone has offered assistance in whatever small way they can, but the women of Fairytail have been particularly diligent when it came to the celestial mage. Gray can understand how she would wish to have a moment alone. "I can leave," he offers. He still needs to take a piss, but he can just as easily find an unfortunate tree or bush outside.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I should be going anyway. I just needed a moment."

Something in the way she says it makes him pause, and suddenly the rings around her eyes look darker. "Lucy, you can have as many moments as you want – for as long as you want... You know that, right?"

The small laugh she gives is hollow, and to Gray's ears it sounds more like a repressed sob. "I wish that was true."

He wants to ask why it wouldn't be, but he already knows her answer. Nashi. "She's not a baby anymore, Lucy. You don't have to be strong for her. Not right now."

"She's eight," she whispers. Tears fill the bottoms of her lids and threaten to spill. Lucy chokes them back, smothers them with anger and resolve. "She's eight years old and she has lost her father. She _needs_ me."

Gray grips her shoulders, softly enough that he won't risk hurting her but tightly enough that he can keep her from floating away. "She will _always _need you. You're her mom. No one is questioning that. But damn it, Lucy, you lost your husband. You need to grieve too."

She shakes her head, but he catches a glimpse of a tear before it falls. "I can't. I can't."

"Yes, Lucy, you can."

"I can't," she repeats, louder this time. "If I start..."

She trails off, but Gray doesn't need her to finish in order to understand. If she starts she won't be able to start. If she cries, if she mourns, then Natsu is really dead. He understands because he feels the same way. Around his heart the ice cracks, and emotion closes his throat and burns his eyes.

He is not ready. She is not ready. If they try to swim now they will both drown.

Only, Gray suspects that Lucy is already sunk down deep, feet grazing the sand, and holding her breath. It's only a matter of time before she tries to breath and water fills her lungs.

* * *

**AN:** For Angst Week Bonus Prompt: Family. Happy Mother's day to all those wonderful mommies out there!


	12. Ember

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_Warning: Spoilers for chapter 513 and onward._

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**(:)(A)(:)**

**Drabble Babble #11**

**Ember**

**(:)(A)(:)**

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This isn't how she imagined it would be.

His skin - as bare as her own - is cool to the touch. Laying next to him, Lucy can feel the heat draining from her body, but she can sense no change in his temperature. Natsu is never cold; never still. It is wrong. All of it is so, _so_ wrong.

They are both naked, laying side by side as if they were lovers but the setting, the circumstances, are all wrong. This is not her day dream of waking up with him beside her, his pulse humming under her ear. There are no sleepy grins, and certainly no laughter. Cold stone bites into her hip and shoulder through the thin layer of itchy straw, and instead of her thick comforter they are covered only by a scratchy blanket they found in the corner. Around them are the worried faces of their comrades, each of them with a thinly veiled prayer reflecting in their eyes.

This is not the intimate moment she once imagined, it is a _nightmare_. Beneath her dirty palms, Natsu is dying. She presses herself against him as tightly as she can, drapes a leg over his and tries to encircle him as much as her body will allow. She thinks if she could just get closer, if she could just smother him with love and warmth, then maybe the panicked beating of her heart might encourage his own. Tears cling to the corners of her eyes, but she hides them from the others by pressing her face into his neck and bites her lip in an effort to stifle a sob.

In a whisper, full of grief and heavy with fading hope, she begs him, "Please, _please_ don't leave me."

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AN: Have a drabble, because I couldn't let this be about fan service.


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